


You Are Mine, I Am Yours

by ProblematicFavesAreProblematic (SaritaNotSerena)



Category: Band of Brothers (TV 2001)
Genre: Dom/sub Undertones, Established Relationship, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-20
Updated: 2020-12-20
Packaged: 2021-03-10 19:40:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,499
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28182540
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SaritaNotSerena/pseuds/ProblematicFavesAreProblematic
Relationships: Lynn "Buck" Compton/Reader
Kudos: 9





	You Are Mine, I Am Yours

Buck Compton x Reader

**Summary:** You both need an outlet for your stress. That was all it was supposed to be

 **Warnings:** SMUT. More specifically, smut NO ONE ASKED FOR. It just kind of happened, oopsie daisy sorry mom

_Title comes from[ Draw Your Swords](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ceup8anv94A) by Angus and Julia Stone bc I’m a depressed bitch who likes songs that make me hurt ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯_

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“Stop staring at me, you creep.”

In the reflection of your mirror, you watched as Buck’s eyes flicked from watching your ass to meet your narrowed gaze, and you found yourself grinning stupidly at the way his cheeks turned pink. 

Buck recovered quickly, though- smirking at you as he sat back on your bed and eyed you appreciatively.

“What can I say, Y/N? _I like the view._ ”

He catches the balled up stocking you throw at him with a lazy ease, a warm chuckle sneaking past his lips. Most men got their rocks off watching their partner get ready for a night out, and Buck was no exception- more often than not you had to kick him out of the bathroom while you applied your lipstick and carefully pinned your hair up because of how handsy he got, threatening to tell all of his friends how much of a sap he was despite his suave exterior.

Where Buck deviated from the pack, however, was in how wildly turned on he became watching you take your makeup _off_.

You’d asked him about it once, after one of the first times you caught him practically eye-fucking you from across the room as you carefully wiped the last of your lipstick from your lips. 

“ _Don’t know, guess you just look more like you. Never really thought about it that much…”_

You could sort of see where he was coming from- the only times you’d worn makeup since meeting him in England was either when you had to attend a fundraising event with Sink as his orderly or when you were tasked with the unpleasant errand of acquiring information from a well-to-do informant. When he’d seen you all dressed up for the first time, long before he’d been anything more than your friend, you’d smacked his arm for staring too long.

_“You have your warpaint, I have mine. Now pick up that jaw of yours from the floor before someone trips over it…”_

You felt more at ease in your fatigues and bare-faced, you liked not having to worry about how you looked on top of all the other things you had to worry about. Maybe before the war, you’d gotten all dressed up for your own benefit. But now? Vanity had come to mean danger, a necessary evil to shield yourself from the suspicious gaze of the rather unpleasant interactions you were forced to endure in order to ensure your country’s success. A pretty mask was still a mask.

Tonight, you’d joined Buck and a few of your friends at a pub after one of your ‘fishing’ expeditions, the breathtaking smile on his face helping you forget about the horrible rumors you’d picked up concerning the SS’s treatment of prisoners. It had taken a while, but between Luz’s terrible yet brilliant impressions and Buck’s hand making its home in the bend of your waist you’d found yourself able to relax somewhat.

There was really only one thing that ever helped you shake yourself free from the stress of the day. Luckily, Buck was more than willing to rise to the occasion.

You weren’t sure what to call your arrangement- friends with benefits seemed too impersonal, and the term lovers made you cringe for some reason you had yet to identify. He was your friend and while you did love him you _also_ knew that it was safer to keep some sort of emotional distance between the two of you, especially because nothing in your lifestyles lent itself to security or consistency. Your lifestyles didn’t even guarantee _life,_ and what was the point of worrying about naming a dynamic that neither of you were sure you’d live long enough to continue?

So for now, you were just each others. He was your and you were his and that was good enough. It had to be.

Although, you’d be lying if you said that moments like these didn’t make you long for something more established. Being with Buck was as easy and necessary as breathing, something he’d alluded to one night after he’d thought you’d fallen asleep.

Raking a hand through your hair, you walk back into the dim light of your room, ignoring him pointedly as you stand beside the bed and take your earrings off. This was part of the routine- you made him work for your attention, just as you had since the very beginning. Buck was used to being wanted, be it academically or athletically or professionally. The fact that you hadn’t immediately taken to him as everyone else had had antagonized him to no end, and the tension it had built between the both of you was nearly as delicious as the eventual breaking of it had been.

His rough fingertips brush up the back of your bare thigh, carefully turning his body so he can nuzzle at your hip.

“You’re wearing the slip I bought you,” he murmurs against the fabric, the white material warming instantly with his breath.

“I am,” you confirm, raising an eyebrow and staring straight ahead as he touches you. “ _Someone_ got impatient and tore my _only other one—_ ”

“And if _I_ recall correctly, this someone said he was _very, very sorry_ about it and bought you two more to make up for it….”

You hum in acknowledgment, letting his hand find your other hip and turn you so you are standing between his knees as he sits on the side of your bed.

“Something tells me that the slips were less of an _apology to me_ and more of a _reward for him._ ”

His hair is soft and fine between your fingers as you comb through the cropped strands, allowing your eyes to slip closed as his lips press chaste kisses from your hip bone to your stomach.

“ _Can it not be both?’_

Using your grip on his hair you tilt his head back so he’s looking up at you, slowly opening your eyes before bowing your head to look down at his heavy-lidded eyes. You give him a soft smile, the one you save for him and him alone, and scratch lightly at his scalp with your nails.

“How pragmatic this _someone_ is.”

Buck shrugs nonchalantly, slipping both hands under the hem of the silk and massaging the supple flesh of your bottom, pulling your hips closer so your back was curved towards him and your chest rose enticingly. Watching him run his eyes up and down the new shape he’d molded your body into, you wondered if he’d always been like this- someone who enjoyed visual titillation almost as much as actual foreplay.

You knew you hadn’t been a fan of verbal sparring before you’d started doing it with him. You doubted you’d find it enticing with anyone other than him.

“I’ll buy you more if you let me tear them off of you, I’ll make slip shopping part of my weekly routine.”

With a shake of your head, you duck down and kiss him softly.

“I don’t doubt that for a minute.”

Before you have the chance to straighten up again, one of Buck’s hands leaves your ass to curl around the back of your neck and pull you back down again for a more heated kiss, licking into your mouth when you open your mouth to tease him about being needy. When his other hand slides back down your leg to the bend of your knee and pulls at it, you follow his lead and move to straddle his hips. 

As you try to support most of your own weight he wraps an arm around your hips and coaxes you into sitting in his lap, smiling into the kiss at your small squeak of surprise. Despite his obsession with _literally_ sweeping you off of your feet whenever the opportunity presented itself, you still at least tried to maintain some semblance of self-support when you got intimate. 

Not that that deterred him at all. If anything, your allowing him to support your full weight only served to get him hotter under the proverbial collar.

You can feel his cock between your legs, hard and proud and _thick_ through the thin material of your respective underpants. Under the pressure of your body, you can feel the slight jump of his abdomen, sliding one of your hands from his hair and down his neck to lightly scratch at his chest.

“ _Already_?” you tease, cursing lightly beneath your breath when he smacks softly at your buttcheek. “I’ve barely even _touched_ you, Sweet Boy…..”

A small whimper comes from the back of his throat at the nickname, but before you can feel any sense of victory he starts kissing the spot on your neck that never fails to make you shiver.

“‘Fucking been like this since watching you get ready earlier,” he growls hotly, his tongue laving at your collarbone as you allow your head to loll back to grant him access. “Since you did that _goddamn_ finger thing.”

You sigh a laugh at the memory, remembering the way his breathing had hitched and his eyes had gone comically wide when you’d brought his finger between your lips to remove any pigment from your lipstick that may have stained your teeth.

“ _Poor baby,_ ” you whisper into the air above your heads, sighing again when he uses his grip on you to roll your hips against his. “Must’ve been so _hard_ for you—”

“It was actually hard for _you_ , if we’re getting technical…. _OUCH_!”

He stops his teasing when you pinch his nipple between your fingers, retaliating by biting at your breast through the fabric of your slip and making you hiss.

The sharp hint of pain makes your heart stutter in your chest, the deep need to be consumed and overwhelmed by him making something hot and dangerous curl in your lower belly.

When his blue eyes meet yours again, you know he can see it- his lips smiling wickedly for a brief moment before he presses a wet kiss to the spot he just bit. The knowing look on Buck’s face only makes the feeling in your stomach intensify with anticipation.

“Impatient _already?_ ” he asks, one of his hands sliding from your ass downward to finger the increasingly slick spot between your legs through your underwear. The teasing tone in his voice has your face feeling hot, and you know that you’re beginning to slip into the submissive state you craved so badly.

“Not so mouthy anymore, are you Sweetheart?”

With the hand still in his hair you hold his head still and smash your lips to his, your wordless plea for more being received with a biting kiss.

Buck knows you well enough by now to understand what you’re asking for- what you are too afraid to admit out loud.

_Take control. Make me forget. Remind me that there are still things to fight for._

_Show me that we’re still human._

Your shaky sigh is swallowed by his greedy kiss, his hands deftly moving your body so your chest is bowed against the mattress and your hips are in the air- your sex lewdly displayed for his viewing pleasure. You feel his eyes on you, the slope of your spine and the yellowing bruises along the backs of your thighs from your last tryst- when he’d wrapped your legs around his waist and fucked you against the wall outside a shelled out barn because he _just couldn’t wait_.

On the globes of your ass, he litters more biting kisses, smacking you soundly on the thigh ever so often when you felt yourself arching back into his touch.

“Needy, _needy_ girl.”

His tone is appreciative, his next slap landing on your hot sex and making you yelp in surprise. His fingers massage at your petals affectionately, the pressure of them easing the painful throbbing that had begun to pulse from arousal. A sound that is nearly a _coo_ comes from the man as you roll your hips into the touch, but you’re too far gone to feel any sort of embarrassment at your shameless show of need.

“Please, Lynn—”

“I will, Honey,” he promises, a hand holding your hip steady as he bends a finger into you without breaking his blissful ministrations. “Just a little longer. You can hold out a bit longer, can’t you Y/N?”

A broken whine bursts past your lips without your permission, your hands smacking at the duvet before fisting handfuls of it at the addition of another finger inside of you. Your head is clouded with arousal, all thoughts revolving around him and you and how good you’re feeling and how badly you want him to give you more, more, more.

You nearly sob when you feel the tip of his cock hollowly rock into your sex, the wide expanse of his hand smoothing down your spine to knead at the space between your shoulderblades. As he leans over to touch you, Buck’s cock inches further inside of you, a high keening sound erupting from somewhere deep in your chest at the beautiful fullness you’re beginning to feel.

Buck’s hand smooths your hair out of your face, touch soft but all-consuming to your overly sensitized skin,

“You still good, Sweetheart?” his voice is quiet and gentle, even as he rolls his hips forward and seats himself into you completely. “You doing okay?”

You nod desperately, unable to stop your squirming beneath him.

“ _Good_ …..can you take more?”

You just finish nodding again before he thrusts powerfully into you, giving you almost no time to grow accustomed to the feeling before laying his chest over your back and biting at your ear. 

_It’s perfect. It’s_ **_so good._ **

With more conscientiousness than you thought yourself capable of, you turn your face into the blankets to muffle your cries as Buck plows into you as if his life depended on it- his breath rough and heavy in your ear.

“ _Fuck_ , you’re perfect,” his words are hotly pressed into the patch of skin behind your ear, another smack stinging your thigh when you don’t instantly reply. “You don’t even _know_ how perfect you are, _do you Y/N?_ ”

Buck’s words are sweet, _too sweet_ to be coming from the same man who is fucking you so thoroughly that you’re starting to forget your own name. No matter how deeply he manages to ruin you, Buck never fails to remind you of his fondness for you. 

He could be fucking your ass and squeezing your nipples so hard you think they’re going to fall off and he _still_ will call you the sweetest names and praising you so openly that your heart will ache from it.

This time is no exception.

You wish you could express how perfect _you_ find _him_ , but the moment you open your mouth all you can do is moan and gasp for him.

He seems to understand the spirit of your attempt, though. 

He slows his thrusting just enough to slide his hands up your sides and duck down enough to kiss at your neck.

You allow him to wrap his arms under your chest and pull you upwards until you’re standing on your knees and upright- the rush of cool fresh air overwhelmingly blissful to your exhausted lungs.

The new angle only brings him deeper, his touch gentle as you re-adjust and reacclimate to this position- The feeling of his fingertips brush down your sternum and over your breasts. 

_Too sweet._

Buck presses his nose against your temple until you turn your head his way, and the way he kisses you does nothing to help you regain control of your senses. 

His thrusts are slower now, the muscles of his torso expanding and contracting against your back.

“Are you going to come for me now?” he asks breathily, kissing your cheek when you rip your mouth from his to gasp for air. “Are you going to _let me feel you_ when you come?”

“ _Fuck_ ,” you manage to choke out, one hand reaching behind you to grip at his ass while the other clutched at his hand as it strokes down your stomach. “Buck, _I can’t—_ ”

“Yes, you can, Sweetheart. _I know you can._ ”

As if to further his point, he moves the hand you are holding down between your legs to play with your clit, teeth pressing against your cheek when he smiles.

Your orgasm hits you unexpectedly, your eyes wide and unseeing as you bend and break for him. The only thing that anchors you is Buck and his arms, holding you steady and strong as he allows himself to chase his own release inside your body.

One of those strong arms locks around your waist as he pumps once, twice, four times before stilling inside of you and releasing a broken grunt into your neck. Buck’s breathing has synched with your own, and with a strength you can’t find in yourself he slowly falls forward so you’re able to rest against the mattress once more. 

You’re still quaking with release when he pulls himself out of you, and somewhere in the back of your mind you note that he must’ve put on a condom because you don’t feel any traces of him lingering inside your belly. You aren’t sure how long you stay in the position he’s left you in, but eventually you feel his lips kiss along the notches of your spine and allow him to turn you over so you’re lying on your back beside him.

The afterglow of sex for you is always bittersweet on nights like this- your body feeling so good and so sated, yet your mind slowly reminding you of the horrible information that you’d gathered earlier in the day. Another partner may have been content to allow you to slip into yourself without any regard, caught up in their own pleasure and unwilling to get you to reveal the source of your distractions.

Not Buck, though.

He doesn’t even hesitate to prop himself up by your side and kiss your lips softly before pulling away to stroke your cheek.

“Are you okay, Sweetheart?”

Despite your nod, he knows better than to actually believe you. 

“Do you want to talk about it? Can you tell me what it is?”

You wish you could, sometimes. Even though you have direct orders from the highest authority to never reveal any of the intelligence to someone without clearance, part of you wants nothing more than to let the rumors and horrible truths spill for your lips and allow yourself to cry about it. Buck’s begged you to once or twice, on the few occasions you’d come back so broken and hollow that you could barely speak, let alone cry.

But you also know that Buck has enough on his plate, his own horrors and fears to hold. You don’t want to add to it, just as he would never allow himself to burden you unduly. 

You shook your head and let a few tears escape your eyes, reaching up to take his hand and press kisses across his fingers. “I can’t. I’m so sorry.”

From the look in his eyes, you know he understands that you’re no longer just apologizing for keeping him in the dark. You’re sorry for all of it- for selfishly making him your outlet for your own complicated feelings, for dragging him into your torment so soon after sharing such bliss.

For encouraging him to be unfaithful to his fiance- a woman he’d insisted he had been strong-armed into pledging himself to, despite the fact that neither of them held any true feelings for the other.

As if he can read your mind, Buck shakes his own head admonishingly, his murmur of your name making your throat feel tight with guilt.

“Don’t,” he says gently. “Don’t go there, Sweetheart—”

“Lynn—”

“ _Y/N._ ”

You stare at each other, your lip quivering as you try to regain your composure.

Buck looks at you with more affection and devotion than he should, than either of you should be expressing _for anyone,_ when your lives are so complicated. 

“The _only thing_ I regret is not knowing you _before_ this. You _know_ that.”

You sniff pathetically and give him a hollow smile. “You’re only saying that because I let you fuck me…”

He considers you for a moment, eyes narrowing before a slow smile breaks across his face.

“Well, maybe I’m saying it for more reasons than that. You know how pragmatic I can be.”

You close your eyes and scoff a sad laugh, sighing deeply when he catches you in another kiss.

_Too sweet indeed._   
  



End file.
